Journey of Faith
by Erugenel
Summary: One need not journey alone, as a certain Rohirric minstrel discovers in the arms of a Gondorian bookbinder's daughter. Sequel to Horns of the North. Original character romance.
1. Victory is a bittersweet feeling

**Hello once again to all. This is the much awaited (I hope) sequel to Horns of the North. This story is significantly longer than its predecessor. I hope it is fine. The first chapter may be boring, but more action is to come in the later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: I wish**

**Journey of Faith **

**Chapter 1: Victory is a bittersweet feeling**

The war was over, for the free peoples of Middle Earth had fought it and won. Yet there were those that wished that they had gone on living in relative peace, for the death toll was catastrophic, Middle Earth were almost on the brink of annihilation. Here in the Houses of Healing, one would feel the slow seeping aura of sorrow and bitterness settle into your very bones. The Houses was crowded with people of all races: Gondorians, Rohirrhim, Dol Amrothians, all of those who had left their lives behind and had stepped forward to defend everyone's freedom. As Nadia moved from room to room, ward to ward, she was struck by the same sense of mixed feelings like a storm in their souls: pain, both physical and mental, for the burden of their bodily wounds and the horrors of the battles that one has to endure is a heavy burden indeed. But where there was pain there was also gladness, for had they not defeated the dark lord Sauron and had toppled his dominion? Sadness bathed her soul each day, for so many due to the evilness of another, but at least they had done their part. Now it was her turn to do hers.

She had volunteered to help in the Houses of Healing once she had seen the numerous wounded come in from the battle. She felt she could not just hover at the backs of the healers like a piece of cumbersome baggage that one just wanted to discard. She joined their ranks; she felt that she must help. Their shifts could last well into the night, or be called up in the middle of slumber to tend to a patient. Her research on healing had not been for nothing either.

"Nadia?" she heard her friend Miriel's questioning voice over the hubbub of the main lobby. Her piercing green eyes were staring fixedly on Nadia. She cursed herself for staying at the window for so long when there was work to be done.

"Miriel, my friend. I trust that you have come to delegate to me another task?" she raised one eyebrow at her friend, waiting for her to say something.

"Come here, I want to ask you something," she said, pulling her along the corridor to a corner where they were not likely to be heard. When they were out of earshot Miriel faced her and asked, "Nadia, is everything all right with you?" Nadia fumed. Why was everyone treating her like a little girl her? She refused to answer and she cried, "please Nadia! Do you not see that we care for you very deeply? You barely eat anything during the day mess, at night you wander around the quarters as a wraith haunting Minas Tirith's walls! I see it; the whole division of healers has seen it too! Tell me now, once and for all, _why have you not returned to your family?"_

At this Nadia burst out, "do want to know why I never return home, why I never speak of my family? I don't know where they are! I don't know if they are dead, or if they are alive!"

"Then what if they are alive? Why do you not go see them? Why do you not hope?"

"I have learnt long ago never to trust to hope, it may fail you at times!"

"Then at least go down to the lower levels, you cannot stay holed up here forever!" miriel heaved a sigh, saying "Nadia, it is not wrong to hope, let go of your fear! It is what always makes us despair, for we are too afraid to believe in something when we do not want to be let down." Miriel put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

With eyes blazing, Nadia shook it off. She wheeled around to face Miriel, "let us drop the matter. I do not wish to speak of these things anymore." She made as if to depart. When Miriel turned to follow her, she said "leave me! I fear I may hurt you more with the words that I utter." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off. As an afterthought, Miriel shouted to her down the hallway "Room seventy nine!"

Nadia fumed all the way to room seventy nine. She was angry at Miriel for telling her, she was angry at the whole division of healers for noticing her unrest, but mostly she was angry with herself. Angry that, after countless nights of sleeplessness, she still could not overcome her fear, even though she had heard the Horns of the North. Angry with herself for debating each night in the healer's quarters telling herself to hope and go down into the city to see if her parents were still alive. And with each morning, she awoke with fresh resolve, ready to start the day's work, but when she caught sight of the wounded and the dying, her resolve dissolved. In them she saw her parents, and fear filled her to the core. All thoughts of going down into the city would dissipate, and each day she told herself that tomorrow she would do it. She would pick at her meal in the canteen during the noon-meal; the rest of the day would be spent in a sort of stupor, a trace that she only awoke from when she steeled herself. She had made the mistake of letting her fear getting the better of her. And now she was angry at herself for allowing it.

Bitter salty tears sprang from her grey orbs, falling down her cheeks as a woodland rivulet flows along its path. Letting herself lean against a wall, she softly murmured, "oh valar, what have I done?" the deserted corridor seemed to echo her pain-filled sobs, and a great sadness welled up inside of her, threatening to burst out of her in one great cry. After what seemed like hours of crying her heart out against a pillar, she gathered all the iron will she had in her and steeled herself, like she did on so many nights, when her heart cried out to her mind to stop its mindless madness.

Nadia cautiously pushed open the door to room seventy nine. Grey stone walls that you could find all over Mina Tirith greeted her, where a window opened out to the fields below. A table and chair of plain dark wood was pushed against the wall, and there sat a man.

One of the Rohirrhim. She could tell by the long, golden brown locks that fell across his shoulders covered by a light linen shirt. His shoulder was bound in strips of white linen, and his arm was slung in a cast. He was toiling away at the table on something, so engrossed was he in his task that he did not notice her presence till she had cleared her throat.

"Milord?" she asked, a tad uncertain. She had gotten the right room, hadn't she? But she had no time think as soon she found chocolate brown eyes gazing at her in surprise. Obviously he had not known she was here. Her foot crumpled against something. She glanced down. It was a rolled up ball of parchment. It was not the product of an idle mind with nothing to do to free himself from the confines of boredom. Instead, it looked as if the poor parchment was viciously torn off and angrily crumpled into a heap. It was probably done one-handedly, since his other arm was put out of any violent action. Looking at his desk, she soon realized that she was not very far from the truth.

Conscious of the Rohirrhim watching her, she quickly murmured, "You should not waste the parchment so, supplies have been blocked lately." He stared at her incredulously, and then gave a small chuckle, which steadily grew till both of us were laughing quietly.

"I have never before met a healer that gives her opinions so freely. All they do is just come in and tend to me. Most uneventful." He said, with a twinkle in his eyes. He looked no younger than twenty, yet already bore the signs of maturity in his strong, rugged face. Setting her healer's kit down, she began to inspect his shoulder wound. Rolling back the bandage, she struggled not to make a face at the rawness of the wound. _Slash type wounds, probably made by a light blow from the sword that was poorly aimed, _she thought, as she redressed the wound, taking extra care when wrapping up his bandage.

"You must be new," he concluded, his brown eyes staring at her. She felt her face heat up. How did he know that? Could he tell why she had chosen to stay? His gazed bored into her relentlessly, as if telling her that he knew there was more under the façade that she kept up. She hastily changed the subject.

"How does your arm feel now, is it healing?" she asked while tying up his bandage.

"A little," he admitted. "Only when I exert it." He added.

"Well, in that case, you had better not exert it if you want it to heal. And now I must leave you, I need to attend to my other duties," Nadia stood up to leave.

"Wait! Milady, you have done me a great discourtesy."

Nadia arched her eyebrows, searching for his meaning. He grinned, "You have not given me the honour of knowing your name." she rolled her eyes. Were all the Rohirrhim this courteous? Nevertheless, she said, "Nadia, daughter of Caleb the bookbinder. And you, milord?"

"Aldor," he said. "Aldor Son of Baldwin the minstrel."

He watched her go, his heart stirring in wonder. He pondered the enigma that was her, so young, and so bold! On her face showed the first signs of womanhood, yet he saw in her eyes, heavy with a sorrow or a fear that she was not willing to face. He watched the other healers come and go, they seemed so timid, yet so aloof, and distant… she was different. There was no doubt about that. He had certainly enjoyed her company; he hoped he could see her again to escape the tediousness and the monotony of his four grey walls. He heard the door creak open once again, and soon Nadia's head followed suit.

"I had just remembered. Lord Aldor, it is permitted in this house to roam freely in the gardens, or around the house. You need not always be confined to your room." And as soon as she had come, she left. Aldor grinned to himself. Looking forward to her company indeed.

He turned to his desk once again. As the son of one of the most celebrated minstrels in King Théoden's court he was expected to do the same, to follow in his father's footsteps. He held no grudge; his love for poetry and language only spurred him on to his calling. But now with the King dead, and my being the son of Baldwin the minstrel, it was only my duty to compose a ballad fitting enough for the great who had fallen in battle.

Now Aldor was suffering from what some people may call writer's block. No matter how hard he tried, he could not come up with lines worthy of respecting the dead and gone.

_They left their home, ridden fast and far to fight_

_For freedom of our lands in a far country where_

_Men live in stone, I cannot understand… _

Groaning at his futile attempt which was, to say the least, pathetic, Aldor was about to crumple the paper to the floor when he remembered her words. _Supplies have been blocked lately…_ he almost guiltily put the paper back on my table and turned it over to use the next page. It was strange for him to see a young girl concerned with things of the world. Nevertheless, thinking about her would not help him with his ballad.

Throughout the day his thoughts ran hither and thither across the plains, rushing back like a storm to his beloved Rohan, to the endless plains and the roaring winds. He found himself dreaming about saddling his horse and riding out across the Pelennor fields, just to feel the wind on his face, tousling his hair. He rubbed my scant beard thoughtfully. Maybe he could find a way to persuade the healers to let him out. He had access to the gardens already.

Here in the houses he was healing fast, or it would not be given its name. he could feel his strength returning to him as quickly as it had left him when he had heard the cry of the winged Nazgul and their hearts had grown mad with terror. Here he now remembered how he had shamefully deserted his liege-lord in the hour of his greatest need, when only Dernhelm remained faithful to the end, for it was the Lady Eowyn under the disguise. Now was a time for healing, a time to forgive myself the unforgivable. But the time had not come for m, not yet. I must linger in sorrow a while longer, as a tribute to my king, for now he was dead.

As I dipped my quill into the ink ready to strike the parchment in a fusion of ink and parchment, I froze, pen poised in the air.

_What would Nadia think?_

She hurried down the stone corridor, her thoughts disjointed and in a mess. What had made her do that? An act of charity to a bored man, or was it the first signs of a friendship between the two? Anyway, it was still only two hours past the rising of the sun, and the mess hall was almost empty, but she steered clear of that course. She was headed for the gardens.

Plopping herself down on one of the many seats in the beautiful gardens, she began to puzzle her mind over the matter. What both Miriel and the lord Aldor had said struck a nerve inside of her, weakening her resolve to carry out the day's duties. But while Miriel was on the verge of accusing, _he _was searching. Nadia felt him read her like a book; he could tell so much from only the first page.

_Why have you not returned to see your family?_

Stop it, she scolded herself angrily. This was not helping at all. Standing up, she went in search of Miriel, wanting to know what her next task was. She also wanted to apologize for the harsh things she had said to her. They surely must have hurt her friend. She found her in her office, compiling some long overdue paper work.

"Nadia," she greeted her with a cordial nod. "What brings you here?"

Facing her steadily, she gathered up her courage and said, "I want to apologize to you for my harsh words and unseemly conduct just now. Milady, please forgive me." Miriel looked confused for a moment, and then chanced a small chuckle. "Nadia, ever the formal one." Standing up, she said to her, "There is no need to apologize. I have forgiven you long ago; I just want you to know that we all care for you. Very deeply too." Spreading her arms wide, she said, "Friends?"

Nadia was incredulous for a moment, then, laughing merrily, she embraced her friend warmly, past sins forgiven in an act of sisterly love. After a while, Miriel asked her, "What was it that you wanted to come see me for?"

Nadia opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Miriel's earlier words still nagged at her. Before she could stop herself, she asked, "May I request the permission to have the day off from my duties? I wish to attend to something, milady." She could already see a smile forming on her friend's lips. Nadia thought with a quiet laugh that she would never hear the end of it.

"Of course you may. I expect you back at the houses on the morrow punctually at the rising of the sun. We still have quite a bit of things to finish here." Nadia turned to go. As she was nearly out the door, she heard her friend call, "And return me that book that you promised me you would repair!" Nadia smiled. Some things never change.

The winds had whirled around her like a storm on the mountaintop, and in the midst of the commotion a soft zephyr gently guided her on my way to the third circle, where her father's shop was situated.

Here the destruction was pretty bad, yet not as bad as the lower levels. Nadia cringed as she walked along the familiar streets which were wrecked and destroyed. She shuddered to think what her house would be like.

Soon her steps slowed, and she contemplated the idea of turning back. But how could she turn back when the end was so near? It was admitting defeat. And she had never taken very well to defeat. So steeling herself once again, like she did on so many other occasions, she took quick resolute steps up to her house.

It was generally better off than the other houses; while the other houses were situated on the main street, hers was a little more to the back.

She breathed an audible sigh of relief.

As the sun reached its zenith did she finally see her home after her stay in the Houses. There was no doubt about it: she undeniably missed it. Her mother's meticulously planted flowers in the front were trampled beyond recognition and the door had been knocked down. Now there was a table in its place. Quietly knocking on the door, she called out, "Father?" when no one answered, she slid past the table and entered the house. With sweeping eyes she took in all that was her home. Every little detail warmed her up inside. She knew that someone was here taking the door as proof. She trod the familiar steps down the hallway, past the kitchen, past the master bedroom, into the small workshop she shared with her father. and to her immense joy, she saw her father sitting at his workbench, as he had done on so many nights before, and the sight warmed her to the very core. She did not shout for joy and leap into her father's arms, instead, she went to her place on the bench beside him, where she had always sat and would sit there for many more years to come. Father and daughter. Together they were a formidable team. He turned to face her, her dear adar, bearing no grudge, only his eyes betraying the slightest bit of pure, indescribable joy.

"Nadia," he said tenderly, dearly, his voice full of paternal pride. "My daughter."

The tears flowed freely now as she embraced her father fiercely, never wanting to let him go, saying over and over, "Never again father, never again." She cried away all the frustration and the pain, the worry and the anxiety. She felt safe again. She never wanted to let this moment go, and the memory of which she would always cherish.

Crying had never felt so good in her life.

**I wrote this story in third person, just to try it out. If you don't like it, drop me a review and I will consider what to do. **

**Erugenel**


	2. Just a friend

**Hello all! Thanks for reading this story. However, I must warn you, this is my first romance, so the dialogue _might_ be a little weird. Don't worry, I'm working on it! **

**Disclaimer: nope**

**

* * *

Journey of Faith**

Nadia returned to the Houses of healing the next morning as the glorious sun broke over Mindolluin's peak and spilled across the land, paying its tribute of light for the day to start. The still quiet sounds of early dawn pulsed silently all around her compared to the bustle of the early morning in the lower levels where the day started before the rising of the sun. yet in the Houses it was anything but peaceful. The whole place was abuzz with activity, healers shouting orders and delegating tasks. Some were hurrying to their respective destinations, yet a large group was gathered in the centre of the large main lobby, attending some sort of briefing. Ioreth the head of the healer's division was speaking to them hurriedly, as if under great pressure, for all around her people were pressing her with questions, queries, while she was busy scribbling onto a pad. Nadia drew closer when she spotted her friend Miriel there. She could hear what Ioreth was saying.

"…asked for aid with the moving of supplies 'round the city to the lower levels…report to me back at noon…" edging closer I nudged my friend in the side, with a look I asked her what it was all about.

"It seems that much of the warehouses and shops in the lower levels were destroyed in the battle, now the remaining food left is concentrated in the upper circles. The trade has not been boosted yet… seems that every one of our suppliers are now hoarding their own supplies and give us the lousiest goods at the most ridiculous prices. The thing is, the lower levels are starving, and the Steward wants some more manpower than he already has."

"For what?"

"To go and help transport and distribute food to the lower circles. Then we are to ration the food out so that every family has enough. Free meals for children under six," she said, cocking her head to hear whatever Ioreth was now saying. "Seems that she is sending out two teams. One for the morning shift and one for the afternoon shift."

"And what about the house visits?"

"Don't worry, Nadia. Danyur and his team will be covering for us. Lets take the morning shift and we can end this job early."

"I sure hope so." She muttered under her breath, careful not to let Miriel of Ioreth hear.

By the time the next shift had taken over, the blazing ball of fire hung high on the sky like an overbearing master to an oppressed slave. Nadia was glad for the second shift; she certainly did not want to continue unloading crates that weighed like gold bars and smelt like a horse's stable. It was with an audible cry of relief when she finally sighted to familiar white buildings of the Houses. Dragging her weary feet inside, she was accosted by Miriel.

"Nadia! Good news. I give you three guesses." Nadia groaned. This was not what she had planned.

"I am getting a pay rise." When she shook her head, she tried again, only to get out quickly. If there was one thing she learnt, it was to give lousy answers if you wanted to escape Miriel's guessing games.

"The King is thinking of crowning me as a celebrated war hero." Again no. finally she had had enough. "FOR THE LOVE OF THE VALAR JUST TELL ME BEFORE I SET THE HOUSE ON FIRE!"

"Ioreth is letting us have the day off!" yelped Miriel, thinking that Nadia really was capable of setting the house on fire.

"Oh." Was all she could manage.

"If you are free, drop by for a small celebration at my house at dusk. Bring something to share! See you."

She left her standing in the middle of the room with everyone staring at her. "What?" she glared at all of them and stalked off towards the gardens, in a worse mood than she had come in with.

* * *

Nadia had always loved the gardens of Minas Tirith. Situated at the sixth circle, it occupied much of the space between the North –gate and the rock wall, pushing it to the side away from sight from the outside, but with a spectacular view from the inside. But the view was not what attracted Nadia. It also served as a sanctuary for those who needed comfort, rest, those who needed time to think, or just--relax. The garden held many secrets; one of them was that it had many secluded places where one could truly be alone. Nadia had found her own personal one, and was heading for it right now. She walked on as if in a dream, somewhere in her sub-conscious state of mind that one achieves when one is weary did she dimly register that her secret spot was not so secret anymore. She was not alone. 

Standing silently behind the cover of the tall plants, she peered cautiously into her favourite spot, under a great beech tree, the place where she would, on free days, curl up with a book and savour the rich silence of a haven away from civilization. Now, that spot was inhabited by the tall strong rohirrhim she met the day before, no less! She recognized that strong, steady tenor of his voice, the soft, thoughtful realization that the world was not always what it seemed. She had a niggling that it was wrong to spy on people, yet the soft refrains of an old song caught her there, and she listened, spellbound, to his strong, steady voice. It washed away all her sorrows and her weariness, it left her a feeling of peace, of something deeper than the quiet comfort to the soul.

Serenity.

The lines sang of the glory and greatness of Rohan's kings. There was Eorl the young, Brego the builder of the halls, of Aldor the old, of Helm hammerhand, all those who had defended Rohan and ruled the land well. The song ended soon, too soon, for her; she felt she could stand there, listening forever. Sooner or later she had to leave, now that the song had ended. She turned to leave, only to be interrupted by his voice.

"Who is that?"

She debated running. After all, it would get her away from the place quickly. But it was also messy, to say one thing, and rude. She certainly did not want the rohirrhim to think that the people of Gondor were spies. Bracing herself, she took a stop forward into the clearing, coming face to face with Aldor himself. She was glad he was not displeased. Very, very glad. Yet, his face had registered alarm for a moment, but now his features were relaxed; her presence was not an intrusion.

"Milady Nadia." He inclined his head. She returned the greeting.

"Milord Aldor. Forgive me for the intrusion; it was not my intention to pry. It seems your song froze me in my tracks." She admitted with a wry smile on her face, with her particular brand of dry humor.

"Indeed. It is readily forgiven. Do you come here often?" he was pacing the area now, nervously, agitatedly. She took it as an indication to leave.

"if you wish it, I will leave. I was just coming here to rest, this being my favourite place…"

"No, not at all! I was just getting lonely here. Maybe you would like to join me?"

"I trust that I would not be of any inconvenience to you milord Ald-''

"Please, just Aldor. After all, must there be formalities among friends?"

She quirked one eyebrow at him, considering him, studying him. "Are we friends?" she asked, with a tinge of humor in her voice.

"Well, we could settle for acquaintances, yet, if I remember aright, you have done me a great service by tending to me, and now that you have heard me singing…"

"Alright! We are friends. Happy?" she said, grinning.

"Yes. Extremely. Now, let us sit down, unless you rather stand, milady."

"Call me Nadia, please, my friend."

"Of course."

They plopped themselves down on the soft, but dry ground, he under the beech, she across him under the protective wings of a dark mahogany. She watched him amusedly; a small smile gracing her lips as he hurriedly gathered his papers all around him, leaving his work for the moment. Then, she spoke abruptly, breaking the stillness of the gardens.

"That was my favourite place."

The look on his face was priceless. Shock, dismay, embarrassment, bashfulness, contrition, all were vying for the mastery of his facial expression, so much so that Nadia had to let a snort escape her. He now looked at her as if she were mad.

"Really! I am not lying. I would always sit there, to read, that is. It is most comfortable, is it not?" he was still speechless. Then without warning, he burst out into laughter.

"That was unwarranted," he exclaimed after the laughs had subsided.

"Yes. I tend to do that to my friends sometimes." She replied with a sly look. Her eyes glanced at the stack of paper beside him. "What are you writing?" she asked, if not out of curiosity, then for a want of conversation.

"Oh, just a ballad." He shrugged his shoulders. Seeing her interest, he explained further. "My father is the minstrel of King Théoden's court, as his eldest son, I am expected to do likewise."

"Then you must be very old! A man of considerable talent must be matured enough to succeed his father." she remarked, a little doubtfully.

He laughed at this. "Nay, Nadia, I am twenty-two, an understudy. My father will still serve in King Eomer's court, now that Theoden is dead. Then in a few years, if I am deemed ready, the king will swear me into his service." At this, his tone changed. It had an evident undertone of sorrow to it, an undercurrent of guilt that gnawed at his soul. She had to change tack quickly, she decided.

"What is your ballad about? It seems to be of considerable importance to you." She remarked.

"Those who had fallen in battle."

"Is it expected of you to do such an honorable act?" she asked. "No, I'm afraid not. It is just my honour and my privilege to undertake such a daunting task."

They sat in silence for a while. For now, silence was the balm, the healing salve to a soul ridden with guilt. It was a mark of respect too, she kept her silence, not saying things meant to comfort but did not.

A soft, sweet voice pierced the trembling air, tender, yet tinted with steel. Nadia sang the lines to a classic ballad, her eyes half-closed, sending out her comfort to him, to let him know that, as friends, she was going to help him.

A bird overhead trilled harshly. She ended the song; the spell was broken. She gave him a small smile. He was thankful for her understanding; no one else really bothered much. In a bid to restore what was left of their conversation, he asked her, "tell me about yourself, Nadia.

So in a clear, quiet voice, she told him of life in a city of stone. She regaled him with tales of her youth; once upon a time she had been the terror of the lower circles when the long arm of Sauron had not reached their city. Then, with a wistful look in her eyes, she spoke of her yearning to go to Rohan, to see the legendary home of the Horse-lords for the first time. She did not speak of the Horns of the North. Now was not the time. Not yet.

* * *

Aldor's heart was churning like the ocean in the midst of a howling tempest. Emotions battled with one another, probably to gain the masteryover him. He struggled to dispel the unwaned feelings from his already troubled mind. In there, guilt was dominant. He tried to turn his anguish into words, letting the long flowing lines speak for him and convey what he was feeling. But when she sang, a new feeling arose amidst the clamor. A feeling of peace that he had not had for a long time, not even after the war. He enjoyed her presence, letting it wash over him. It helped alleviate the feeling of loneliness. He was to leave the Houses in a few days time, once he was fully, healed, and he would be returning to Rohan for the burial of King Théoden. He knew that he might not see Nadia ever again, but for now, he pushed all thoughts away and tried to be in the present. 

She suggested that they take a walk in the gardens. Nodding, he hastily gathered his things as she extended him a hand to pull him up. His large, warm hand closed over her firm, strong one and with an amazing strength she pulled him upright. She waited as he righted himself and straighted out his rumpled clothing. Casually, she reached over and straightened his collar. He froze. Their close proximity was making his nervous. With a small laugh, she drew back, light shining in her eyes. She had been close, so close…

"Aldor?"

"Coming Nadia." He smiled. He sounded like a child being called by his mother. They set off together for the path well trod: the garden path. After some aimless comments on the weather, he finally asked a question that had been on him mind for quite some time now.

"So are you a novice here? I mean healing, of course." And as if to back his query, he indicated to the Houses behind the.

"Actually, no. I am merely a volunteer. My real work is in bookbinding."

"Bookbinding! That is indeed interesting. But judging by the way you healed me the other day, you seem very good at it. Do you have your own shop?"

"Are you saying that just to appease me? Anyway, I am only an apprentice in the trade. My father owns the shop."

"What sort of books do you come across?" he asked her, if not out of courtesy, then because, he was genuinely interested. Nadia hope that it was the second.

"Why, I thought the rohirrhim were a people interested in only their horses! You, however, are an exception."

"I do my best. You seem to know a great deal about my people." He remarked, with humor in his voice.

"Yes, I know. I read." She laughed.

"Then that brings me back to my question."

"You are a very inquisitive man, Aldor!"

"I make it a point to get to know my friends better."

"Well, I see you are not to be daunted. Let me see… I read history books, literature, art illustrations, languages, cooking, gardening, geography, arithmetic, mythology, botany, astronomy, How to defeat Sauron in Ten Days…"

"!"

"Of course not! Did you really think for a second that I was telling the truth?" she laughed again. The conversation was pointless, but it was strangely enjoyable and helped to pass the time.

"You are a good friend, Nadia."

"So are you, Aldor."

And together they walked up the path to the gardens, the houses echoing with their laughter.

_

* * *

No, that's not right, _thought Nadia as she tried on another gown. She usually opted for more casual and comfortable clothes, yet this was Miriel's party, and she had to wear something presentable or Miriel would be on her case. She tried on another dress, this time a simple white number as she pulled her hair up in an elegant yet simple bun and fastened it with a clasp. Deciding that she would risk the wrath of her friend, she picked up her parcel of food (roast fowl), bidding her parents a good evening together, she waltzed out the house.

It was nearing dusk, and the last rays of the glorious red sunset bathed the white stone in a pool of red. She hurried along. She definitely did not want to be late. As she neared her destination, she could hear the strains of music and laughter. No doubt some people had brought ale. She quickened her pace. It would not do to miss out in any more of the activities.

She was instantly pulled into the house when she knocked on the door. Miriel looked flustered and red, but happy. She brought Nadia around the room, where she recognized some good friends in the area. Someone had brought a fiddle and now everyone was mostly gathered around a table at the corner where the fiddler was playing. She drew closer, and found that it was a group of the rohirrhim raising their mugs of ale and singing a bawdy drinking song of a young man, his love, and his horse. They were all linking arms and singing, and in the midst of them there was…

"Aldor! Come, sing with us brother! One would think back to the happy days in Meduseld, but the ale here is a tad bit watery." The room roared with laughter. More ale was passed round and they started on another ballad. As she stood there, enjoying herself, she heard a quiet voice behind her, "It is a small world, is it not, my friend?" she spun around and saw Aldor there.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. He gave a soft smile and replied, "I was invited."

"Now who would possibly invite you and your rohirrhic friends?"

"Your friend, Miriel."

"Really! Now that is interesting. Maybe se has something up her sleeve," no sooner had she said this when Miriel appeared at their side.

"Nadia- I see you have met Aldor already! Do you know each other?"

"Where- '' Nadia began.

"We were just- '' protested Aldor.

"I'll just leave you here then! Enjoy your evening!" and was gone as quickly as she had come. Then they were the target.

"Aldor! You didn't introduce us to your lady friend! Come, let us share a drink!"

Quite a few ales later, the minstrel of Rohan found that the bookbinder's daughter could hold her ale pretty well. _Wait till she tastes the rohan ale, she'll be knocked flat within minutes,_ he thought. Then again, maybe not. She soon bowed out of the drinking game. If there was one thing she knew, it was her limit. She did not want to wake up with a massive hangover in the morning. Soon, the small party broke up, and everyone returned to their homes. She had to walk Aldor back to the houses, and them she still had to help Miriel clear up.

It was only until late that the last guest left, and finally only she and Miriel were left. They sat on the cool stone walls like they did when they were young, and they talked about everything they could think of finally, Miriel asked her about Aldor.

"What about him could possibly be of interest?" said Nadia, trying to keep up a tone of indifference while glad for the shadows as it shrouded the blush creeping across her face.

"I don't know. I thought you could tell me. After all, it was you he was walking with in the gardens today, not me.

"How dare you spy on us!"

"Now, now. You two were not doing anything immoral, were you?"

"No but…isn't anyone allowed any privacy anymore?"

"We do live in a city, dear. So anyway, what do you think of him?"

"He's a friend, Miriel. Just a friend."

But in her heart Nadia pondered the validity of her words.

**

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DarkAngelPearl****: yup! Thanks for the idea! I will probably use that in future chapters!**

**Demoneyes: thanks for reviewing!**

**nightzodiac****: sorry for taking so long, what with school and stuff.**

**Fly Like a Blueberry Pie****: thanks for reviewing! Its reviewers like you that make me continue:P**

**Wheeeeew! I thought I'd never get that done! Thank you for sticking through this loooooong chapter. Its sheer length prevented me from updating sooner. **

**Erugenel**


	3. Parting on a ride

**Sorry for taking so long for this chapter. My exams are coming up and I need to study, and I have decided to enforce discipline into my schedule, so there will be less reading and more writing… so I hope to get the chapters up quickly. I have tons if ideas for stories, and I hope I can pen them all down. But for now, ON WITH THE STORY!**

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Journey of Faith**

It was the sun that served as a wake up call to rouse the inhabitants of Minas Tirith from their fitful slumber. Sounds of early morning began to buzz about the White City as its inhabitants prepared for the day ahead. Today the heir to the throne of Gondor would come into his own; it was a day not to be missed.

Yet one was already from her bed, like a shadow she flitted about the hallways of the Houses of Healing, her grey traveling cloak trailing behind her as a spectral train of a ghost's wedding. With slow, deliberate steps she trod the stone floor on the path she had taken for her own. With a raise of her hand, Nadia knocked on Miriel's door with three sharp raps.

"Enter," came a voice from within. Twisting the brass doorknob, she was greeted with the sight of her friend at her desk, busy writing a report.

"You should not read in such dark surroundings. It is bad for the eyes." she admonished her gently, almost motherly, though there was a gap of a few years in between them. Looking at her friend's careworn face, it was hard to believe that she was only a lady of no more than twenty summers.

"Yes mother. One would think that it were you that were the elder of the two of us." She grinned suddenly, raising her head and rubbing her eyes. I was just finishing something- but look, the sun is rising." And indeed it was. Tender rays of the sunrise's gold and red hues spilled across the room, lighting up their delighted faces with a warm caress. It was a moment frozen in time when, in the clearness of the early hours, she felt like a small girl again.

"So what brings you here?" said Miriel, leaning back into her chair, looking every bit the willing listener.

"I am going to leave the Houses. Bookbinding calls me away, and I cannot resist."

"Ever the poetic one." She shuffled some papers, then looked up and said, "About time you asked too. After the war I realized that I have taken in too many volunteers. Time to pack them all home, don't you think?" Nadia burst out into uncontrollable giggles. Miriel raised a finger to her lips, yet she seemed to be on the verge of laughter too.

"Shhh! Do not disturb the patients!"

"Sorry," came the flat reply. "So are you going to pack me off home? My father's shop is in dire need of an assistant."

"Yes, yes. Go and leave me all alone to do the work. Now shoo, I need to get this report done. See you at the celebrations!"

Nadia grinned. Skipping out of the office, she stubbed her toe on the chest of drawers beside the door, and left with Miriel's laughter ringing in her ears. She took a familiar path and whisked out of sight.

* * *

It was with some reluctance that Aldor finally get out of bed to escape the sun's persistent shining in his face. He wanted to shout, "Alright! I am up! No need to rub it in." yet he realized that people passing by would probably think him crazy. So he kept silent. He had tried moving the bed the night before, but to no avail. He entertained the thought that the architects of the room had fastened the bed to the floor, just to irk him. Well, he was irked, thoroughly. After being silly for a few minutes, he squinted from behind sleep closed eyes and tried in vain to remember something that had slipped his mind. Bema, if only he had not drunk so much last night! Clutching his pounding head, he staggered around the room, pulling out some clothes to change. His eyes roved around the room, adjusting to the bright light, and found an envelope on his bedside table. It was a plain white envelope, with clear bold letters that stated:**_ Aldor_**

Snatching it up, he grasped a letter opener from his table and slowly slit it open, wondering what it contained. His curiosity was piqued, and by now he was fully awake. He drew out a folded piece of parchment, its contents written in a firm, flowing script.

_My dear Aldor, _

_Doubtless when this letter reaches you I will not be in the Houses of Healing anymore. Fret not; I have not left the country. Forgive me for not coming by to see you earlier. You were still deep in slumber, you see, and I had no desire to wake you and be on the receiving end of whatever wrath or annoyance you might possess in the early hours of the morning._

_I have returned to bookbinding, if you really want to know. My father needs some more hands in the shop, other than himself. The houses of healing were significantly emptier, so I could be let off. I am currently spending the better part of the morning clearing the shop and preparing for the coronation._

_I hear that you are to be discharged today. If you wish, you can drop by the shop on the third circle. It is the only bookbinder's shop there, so if you cannot find it, ask around and you will soon know. Try to come around noon today, as people will mostly be at lunch. Business is good. Due to post-war spring cleaning, they seem to want to have their books mended as soon as possible. Strange, is it not? _

_Maybe you could come around after the coronation of the King Elessar. Are you part of the King of Rohan's guard of honour? I should like to see you there. If not, another day then! _

_Yours truly,_

_Nadia _

_P.S: I made a small paper crane for you. Perhaps when you leave we can maintain a correspondence? _

Placing the letter on the bedside table, he carefully shook the envelope and a small little paper crane, no bigger than his finger fell out onto his outstretched palm. It was a small, simple design, yet it held much significance. Setting it down onto his bedside table, he felt a twinge of guilt. He had not told her that he would be leaving the next day. But never mind, he could see her later after…

_**King Elessar's coronation**_

The thought hit him like a thunderbolt. _Oh valar_ he moaned. With a mad scramble he dashed about the room, picking up clothes and putting things in order. And not a moment too soon, for he heard knocking on his door. His friends had arrived.

"Aldor? Are you awake? Open the door!" he heard his friends call. Not watching where he was going, he tripped and stumbled to the floor. Thank the gods he kept his room tidy, unlike some of his friends. More frantic pounding. "Hurry man! By Bema's beard! Have you forgotten that you are part of the guard of honor today? We are soon going to be _very_ late if you fail to move you soon-to-be worthless bottom off the floor." Following was a long stream of colourful curses that spilled from his mouth in their native tongue as Aldor groaned inwardly. He was glad he had locked his door last night.

Picking himself from the ground, he rushed about the room getting things in order, pulling on his armor and brushing his long mane of hair. Stuffing the crane back into the envelope, along with the letter, he pinned his cloak around his shoulders, making a note to himself to visit Nadia at her shop after the coronation. Bursting out the door, hastily belting on his sword, he joined his none-too-pleased eored and proceeded to the assembly hall.

* * *

The heir to the throne of Gondor was considered legendary, mythical even. The line of kings had vanished off the face of the earth, leaving a fledgling nation in the care of the line of stewards. Now he was here, in the flesh, the very essence of their long absent monarch returned to them. Something stirred in her heart when she heard, no she _felt_ the haunting melody that he sung in his soft, strong voice that gave reassurance to the faint hearted and courage to the brave. And in that voice, she heard Aldor's deep, steady tenor, a soothing balm on many of the sorrows she had seen. 

"_Et Earello Endorenna Utulien Sinome Maruvan Ar Hildinyar Tenn Ambar Metta!_

Out of the great sea to Middle Earth I am come. Here I shall abide, and all my descendants, until the ending of the world!

Such were the words that Isildur had uttered when he stepped onto the shores of Middle Earth. The King Elessar had sung it, in remembrance of a time deep in history where they ceased to be of Numenor and were now the people of Gondor. In saying those words he gave strength to al those who were in need of it.

Already people had bounced back from the forceful push of war. The city was repairing the destruction wrought by the minions of Sauron and the hatred he possessed, and though it grieved them to see many fair houses where friends of theirs had spent happy days there. They pushed back their tears, and moved on. Nadia was grateful for their will to put the past behind; she herself felt unable to shake off the horrors of war.

The crowd dispersed in different directions as the king removed to the Tower of Ecthelion. There would be much feasting going on later, yet she was disinclined to join in, maybe because she was too reserved and shy, too "bookish" for her own good, as some people would say. She knew it was not true. She had had her fair share of mischief and fun in her younger days, now was the time to think about her future. One could say the war had made her grow up in such a short time. Whatever it was, she gave it no further thought.

Small groups of people were dotted about the square, happily talking and chatting. The walls provided excellent view of the lands below, and the air was keen and fresh, being of a higher altitude than the lower levels. She could not bring herself to enjoy it, and slip into the modicum of comfort that most in that area were experiencing.

_You were always much of a deep-thinker, always brooding. One would think Nadia would not mean "hope", but despair._

Nadia mulled over her words, thinking that, after all, she was too bookish for her own good. Too contemplative and meditative. She had fought back, on numerous occasions, the urge to say that it was her nature, that she was born that way.

It was just that she was plagued by thoughts of what was to become of her as she grew older. She knew that her father would have her be the finest bookbinder that had graced Minas Tirith, a stable occupation that paid well and would provide her well in to her retirement. It was practical, yes, undeniably. But the larger part of her yearned for something more, a fulfillment of a dream, or the satisfaction of her wanderlust. Knowing her, it was both. But she could not bear the guilty feeling that she was abandoning her father for her own selfish reasons. Whatever it was, she had not the time to figure it out. She would have to wait, until the opportunity presented itself, then she would make her move.

"Nadia?"

A deep, inquisitive male voice called out her name. A voice she had become familiar with over the past few days. Spinning around, she was faced with an Aldor in full dress uniform. Albeit a very grinning Aldor.

"Like the view?" he teased as she took in the details of his rich garments.

"Very much," she shot back, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I think I prefer guard-of-honour to convalescent. Keep it up, friend."

"What is the matter, Nadia? Such a fine day should not see you in so low spirits and in such a saturnine mood." Then, after a moment's silence, he asked, "Is there something on your mind? Anything I should know about?"

"Nay, friend, it is nothing. Just my own messy thoughts." Nadia roused herself and smiled weakly at him. They stood there for a moment, enjoying the clear, keen wind one can only get at high altitudes, a beautiful moment frozen in time. She broke out of her reverie. "Shall we go to my place then?" she said in a falsely cheerful voice.

She did not know if Aldor noticed her uneasiness, for his face betrayed no emotion. They filled their walk to her house with aimless chatter and friendly banter. Unlocking the door to her house with ease, she graciously invited him in, calling to her father that she had brought a friend home.

Walking in, Aldor took in the wooden furniture tastefully arranged in various places. In one corner, a sprig of peppermint in a cerulean porcelain vase gave off its sweet, refreshing scent. One could almost smell the freshness, the homely quaint beauty of the place. Nadia clearly loved it much.

Nadia returned from the kitchen bearing two mugs of steaming coffee, smiling apologetically. "I am sorry we don't have any ale here, but if you come again we will heartily serve you some with good cheer." Sitting down at the table, they sipped their coffee and spoke aimlessly of many things. Suddenly, Nadia put her cup and beckoned him outside to the back, the look on her face clearly stating that she had a surprise in store for him.

* * *

Nothing could compare to the rugged beauty of the wild and untamed, vast and spirited plains of Rohan, but for now, the fields of the Pelennor would have to do. It was beautiful, in its own way, and it was wide enough for a fast paced gallop. And with the wind in his face, tousling his hair, Aldor wondered why he had never thought of this before. It was what he was, plains, wind and horse; all molded into one being that was the Rohirrhim. It was the essence of the Rochir's soul. Wild and untamed, that was what the lands of the North and its people were. 

With a great cry he spurred on his steed and nudged it into a gallop, with Nadia in hot pursuit after him on Braveheart, her mount. Nothing else could match the feeling of riding free, the exhilaration and the excitement. He dimly registered her daring cry of "The race is on! To the River!" and they were away, each trying to outpace each other, all around them the world melted into a phantasmagoria of shifting colour as they rode the winds. Arriving first, he dismounted and let his Silverstreak graze as Nadia pulled up alongside him and dismounted with a flourish.

"Milord, that was grossly unfair! You gained the upper hand by catching me unawares. You have forfeited your honour." She mock complained.

"Milady, I swear I have done no such thing! You enticed me to come out and the wind called to me, I merely gave chase." He gave such an innocent grin that she burst out laughing.

"Fine, if you insist. You are the winner. I must concede to the superiority of the Rohirrhim." With that, she made a show of bowing low that Aldor had to let out a laugh. They stood by the river, watching the sun dance upon the water and release a myriad of colours, red, blue and green upon a canopy of white.

Finally, Aldor uttered, "I am leaving tomorrow."

"I know," replied Nadia. "You willed be sorely missed, you and your people. They have been of great help to us all." With that, she turned away from him. "The Rohirrhim have to return to attend to their affairs, as do we all, when hour of war is gone."

He replied, "Milady, the people of Gondor have shown their hospitality to be endless. On my behalf, the Rohirrhim want to thank the people of the White City." He said, bowing.

"Nay, it is he people of the White City who thank the Rohirrhim. Without you, all hope would have been lost. But on behalf of all the people of Gondor, I receive your gratitude."

"Then we are equals."

Nadia then turned to face the river, watching the water flow and bleed her thoughts away.

"Yes," she agreed, "I suppose we are."

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Sorry for this short chapter. I promise that there will be much much more material coming up in future chapters.**

**Erugenel **


	4. Letters

**Sorry for the wait! This one will be a little short, and then there will hopefully be more material.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not conceived of by me but written for the greater good.**

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Journey of Faith**

**Chapter 4: Letters**

_Dear, dear Aldor,_

_My friend and confidante, we have come to known each other not by our meetings, which are, sadly, very much infrequent, (or perhaps you can say not at all,) but by the consistency of our correspondence. And though I have not seen what you look like after these few years, I know very much about what you like to eat, your favorite colour, where you would want to be when the sun raises. Needless to say, I know a great deal about you, and you know a great deal about me too. _

_The last letter I had sent reached you three weeks after I had sent them with the traders. Blame them and their infinitely slow and long trade routes. How does you father, the King, the whole of Rohan fare? Send my regards to whoever would like to receive them._

_The intent of this letter is to bear you some good news, on my part. I hope that when I have a reply it will be reciprocated. _

_I am coming to Rohan!_

_ I hope this may not overly surprise you, dear friend. I just hope very much that you will be in the vicinity when arrive, for I would very much like to see how you look like after these years. I can imagine all the maidens and damsels swooning at the first glance of you and worshipping the ground you walk on, if I may be so bold. Forgive me, friend. my frankness has oftentimes caused many people much distress._

_If you are curious as to the purpose of this visit, you should know that it is all for the cause of educating young minds in the White City. To disambiguate things, it means that I have entered training to become a teacher for the new school that the King Elessar is opening next year, for the young who do not have the opportunity of a sound education due to who-knows-what. As part of our training the Steward is packing us all off to Rohan, and methinks his wife, the White Lady of Rohan, insisted they join the journey to the lands of the North, wishing to see her beloved homeland again. I would be likewise, if I have lived as she has. _

_We should be expected to arrive on the oncoming weeks. Should you by any chance not sight us on the plains of Rohan, call for aid. And please refrain from getting injured again, my friend. I would not want to have to care for you again. And I am saying these things in jest; therefore please take no offence at my words. Years of camaraderie through correspondence dissolved because of an insult said lightly? T'would be a shame indeed._

_Once again, send my regards to anyone whom would receive them, and I hope to see you soon._

_Ecstatically yours,_

_Nadia_

_

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_**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. They are the fuel for more updates.**

_**Erugenel** _


	5. Journey of Duty

**And I am back! Hopefully I could make the chapters nice and long. I don't really know…it depends on my typing speed, which is woefully slow.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not conceived of by me but written for the greater good. (It's now my official disclaimer! Congratulate me! Joking.)**

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Journey of Faith**

**Chapter 5: Journey of Duty**

Nadia cursed the powers that be, and had been doing so repeatedly for the past hour, and the hour before, and the hours before that, and the days past since they had set out from Minas Tirith on their way to Rohan. She cursed the unforgiving hardness of the saddle. She cursed the stiffness in her limbs that it was causing her. She cursed the journey ahead. She cursed a good many things. But then again, if you were stuck atop a horse for several hours a day, everyday of the week, one would invariably curse.

It was inevitable.

She was extremely glad she had no need to ride side-saddle, like the ladies of the oh-so-decorous court, but cursed her urban heritage for not exposing her to the various modes of transport more often, for now she was paying for it. The only compensation for the unbearable discomfort was the thought of seeing her friend again, but even that was too feeble to quell the rising expletives in the back of her throat. She choked it down, for the sake of saving her face in front of her fellow colleagues, who, to give them some credit, were taking the discomfort fairly well.

But at least the view was breathtaking, to say the least. Lush, green plains stretched out for as far as the eye could see, and in the distance mountains loomed ominously, a distant reminder of all things barren and stone. It helped her take her mind of the numbness in her rear.

Almost.

Thank the valar they were stopping for the night, or she might not have lasted any longer than she did.

* * *

She had been able to express some measure of awe at finally arriving in Rohan, the place which had captivated her dreams and fantasies for most of her life. If it only had not been for three whole weeks stuck upon a saddle, trotting upon her frisky mount, she might have been struck speechless at the Golden beauty of Edoras and Meduseld. As it was, they were all thoroughly quite weary and she wanted nothing more than to rest and have a proper bath. So for now, she was filled with a sort of quiet wonderment and respect. All thoughts of greeting Aldor wholeheartedly were driven from her mind.

_If only I could have a good long bath and a nice meal…_ propriety demanded that they stand before the throne and be welcomed graciously into Rohan by their King. It was now that Nadia cursed protocol as if it were in league with Sauron himself.

"Welcome to Rohan, my friends. I am King Eomer son of Eomund and my wife Queen Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. We and all of Rohan bid you have a pleasant stay. After you have washed and rested, we will have a feast in your honour."

And so there went her chances of a whole day's rest. _But,_ she thought,_ I still get a hot meal. _

She scanned the flaxen-haired crowd for her friend. After cricking her neck several times to search him out, she admitted defeat and let the King's words wash over them. Finally she felt the people around her moving and she dragged her feet along with them to her quarters.

After a good, water inundated hour later she emerged, gratefully shaking her wet hair and admitting a ballistic waiting Lotessa into the adjoining alcove to wash. She sat down on her bed slowly, letting the realization sink in finally. She had been so caught up in her grimy state and her tiredness, so engrossed to let the beauty of Rohan take hold of her and weave a magic web of colours gay. She was in Rohan. The land of the Horse Lords.

It seemed so strange that she was staying there as a guest, that she had at long last fulfilled her dream. And as she took in all her differing emotions, she was struck speechless. For a while she lay basking in the warmth of her happiness.

Presently there came a knock on the door. Opening it, she found a servant girl poking her head through. "Milady, My lord King bids me tell you that everyone is expected in the dining hall ere dusk. It would be a great courtesy if you would join us."

After thanking the girl, she closed the door and began plowing through her belongings for something suitable to wear befitting a lady of Gondor.

* * *

The feast was welcoming, to say the least. It was unlike anything she had ever seen in Gondor. Here in Meduseld the ale flowed freely, as did words while tongues were loosened. The food was rich and diverse, and there seemed to be no end to the number of dishes, a testimony to the land's quick recovery from war. She had eaten a little, and had drunk half a flagon of ale before bowing out, already sensing her low alcohol tolerance meter edgily rising to a critical level. She also had dressed conservatively, but now she was beginning to regret the choice of her midnight blue, long sleeved gown. Firstly, it was getting rather warm, and also felt like a walking killjoy in her somber colours while everyone else was much more spirited in their raiment.

She needed a walk. When the Rohirrhim feasted, things tended to get rowdy and hearty with drinking contests running alongside each other. She elbowed a tipsy guard bearing a tankard of ale out of her path and stepped out into the much needed night air, welcoming the keen wind that always seemed to be there. Sitting herself down a stone bench, she began to wonder if her absent friend going to show his face.

Meanwhile, Aldor was going insane. Maybe it was the effect of the one too many ales he had had earlier, or it was the exceptionally comfortable bed and the afternoon heat, but he had overslept when he had promised himself a short nap. And now he was paying for it, being late for a welcome feast, and fearing for his life at the receiving end of the King's wrath. Fortunately, the king had not noticed his behaviour that so breached the conduct of propriety, and he had gone looking for his Gondorian friend. Initially he had panicked at seeing the Golden Hall seething with merrymakers, and his heart had blanched at searching her out among so many. But when he hastened out onto the ramparts it took a while for him to recognize that the tall young lady that stood in the shadow of the moon was indeed Nadia herself.

He would catch her by surprise. Sneaking up as stealthily as a _Rochir_ could, he said, "Good evening, Milady."

Nadia scrunched up her face for a moment, thinking who it might be. There was richness, a tinge of ruggedness that she had come to know so well, but its memory had sunk down into the recesses of her mind, only to be dredged up again.

Unable to put a name to the voice, she turned around and to her immense joy, happiness, relief and annoyance, stood Aldor, the minstrel of Rohan whom she had tended years ago. There he stood, in all his green and gold finery, grinning like a Cheshire cat that she wanted to hug him, berate him, to slap him for making her worry and wait. Instead, she cried his name tackled him to a nearby pillar, laughing out of joy and him laughing at her spontaneity.

After a few minutes of good-natured blows and informal pleasantries, they fell in step for a walk in the cool night air.

"It has been long, Nadia," he commented after a while.

"Yes, it has been. What has befallen you in these past years? What chance stroke of luck have you encountered? I would not wish to hear your life so dull!" she replied.

"Why my friend, mostly what has happened to me has found its way to you through my letters! Or have you forgotten so easily our solemn exchange of letters every now and then?" he cried, feigning hurt.

"I am led to believe there is more of the man beneath the letters!" she cried. Then, more quietly, she continued, "Even though I know a great deal about you, I still feel as if I just met you yesterday. I barely know you except for these small trivial things that matter not as much in our lives," she said, falling silent.

"Needless to say," he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "Oft have I shared the same sentiment. But come, now is the time to catch up. We can spend more time together in the weeks to come."

That seemed to break her out of her somber mulling. Visibly brightening, she said, "Well, then, what news? Has any fortunes stumbled across your path? Any fair-haired maiden captured your heart? Tell me everything!" he shook his head resignedly. The same old Nadia, eager for details. "Well, I am due for an elevation of status," she looked positively delighted for him, "I am to become the King's Chief minstrel, now that my father is retired."

"When will your initiation be?" she asked breathlessly. "In about a week," he said.

"And you? How long will be your stay here?" he asked, shifting the focus on her now.

"A month, until the new year. Then the King will expect us back and we will have the final selections as to who will best suit the needs of whatever the King wishes."

"It sounds like a dictatorship," remarked Aldor.

"Yes, it does, but we have all learnt to trust in our king. He knows best," she replied. "But anyway, there is the Lord Steward Faramir. He loved by everyone, and he too has a say in this matter. Therefore we have no choice but to comply. Not that I am complaining, though," she said, with a wicked grin on her face.

They laughed again, as friends long kept apart but now reunited.

_By the valar, it is good to see him again.

* * *

_

The Lady Eowyn was feeling a little tipsy, and anyone who knew her well could guess that when she had had one ale too many, her tongue would imperceptibly loosen and ideas would enter her head. And since she could hold her liquor well, she had obviously had one ale too many.

"Faramir," she called to her husband, who was standing a little away from her, speaking with her brother about the merits of letting hobbits loose in a brewery. Excusing himself quickly, he was at her side, ever the loving and attentive husband.

"Yes, my darling, wife, what is it you would bid me do? Your wish is my…" she silenced him with her finger to his lips.

"Look, Faramir. Look at that couple." She said, pointing to the raven haired lady dancing exuberantly with a flaxen-haired horse lord of the mark.

"Eowyn, love, unless you tell me what is so spectacular about a couple I will never know who and what you are talking about. Look around. How many couples are in this room…" he was silenced again with a firm smack to his head. He followed her gaze to the young couple, the opposite of him and Eowyn, trying to dance amidst the crowd and with their lack of skill and finesse in mind. Eowyn's voice broke into his reflections.

"They are so young, so full of life, of passion," she said, lost in memory. "Do you remember when I we first met? It seems so long ago," she rested her head on her husband's shoulder.

"May I remind you, milady, that you and I are not so very old ourselves," replied Faramir, a mischievous glint in his eye. He was rewarded with a smack on the arm.

"You know what I mean, Faramir. I know her, the girl from before. She tended to me in the houses of healing. And he is the son of Rohan's chief minstrel. Look closely; tonight is not their first meeting. And will not be their last," she commented.

"And when was I blessed with such a wife, who not only can read hearts but also foretell the future? Since when have you taken up the pastime of observing people?" he caressed her hand gently.

"Since I married you, oh steward of the White City," she teased. "No, truly, I feel that maybe they make a wonderful pair…" she was cut off by her husband's peck on her lips. "Enough of you matchmaking schemes for a night, Eowyn. Come, let us dance." And pulling her by the hand he led her to the crowd to enjoy the night as it was still young.

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**Another chapter for you all! I hope that maybe I could make them longer as I go on. **

**Please review!**

**Erugenel **


	6. Royal Tour

**Note: I made a small mistake. In my first chapter I said that Aldor was the son of Baldwin the Minstrel. Actually, after I did some research, I found out that Gléowine was the King's Chief Minstrel. I apologize for any I apologize for any inconvenience. **

**DISCLAMIER: Not conceived of by me but written for the greater good.

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**Journey of Faith**

**Chapter 6: Royal Tour**

Over the week Nadia was so completely absorbed in her duties that it left her little time for anything else. She also had not seen Aldor all week; she deduced that it was just their conflicting schedules, yet a small part of her was irked. She supposed it was just irritation at not being able to spend as much time with her friend as she pleased. It was also difficult to appreciate the wild, rugged beauty of Rohan when she was constantly indoors. So she was very irate when someone knocked on her room door in the darkness of the morning when most were still asleep on her free day. After all, everyone rose early (before sunrise, in fact,) and retired late in Meduseld. Pulling on her cloak to ward off the chills, she wearily opened the door to face a relatively wide-awake Aldor.

"What do you want?" she asked brusquely, running her fingers through her disheveled hair. He seemed not to mind her harsh tone, for he pulled her hand spiritedly and said, very quietly, "Come with me, and _quietly_."

She suppressed her indignation and as silently as possible changed into warmer outdoor clothes. She was reasonably pleased with her attempt at being quiet, supposing that swishing fabrics did not count as noise.

He led her silently through Meduseld, careful not to make any noise. It was blindingly dark that she had to trust Aldor that he knew where they were going while the rest of the world slumbered. Soon, the smell of hay and the stamping of hooves alerted her to exactly where she was.

"A stable?" she whispered as incredulously as she could. Aldor turned to her, grinning sheepishly, and whispered back, "Surprise?"

"In the middle of the night? What are you thinking?" she screeched. "We could get lost, or have an accident, or-," she was cut off when he put his hand to her mouth. "Trust me," he whispered, leading her to where their steeds were waiting. She could only nod mutely and follow along.

"Saddle up," he announced, slinging his satchel on his back. She mounted her steed gracefully without his help, waiting for him to take the lead. Already the night was breaking, and the distant rays of sunlight lighted up the sky from an obsidian black to a navy blue. They went off at a slow trot, so that she could grab out and touch him for reassurance that he was still there. Soon she felt the ground incline.

_So we are going up a hill. _

By now the dark had dissolved and they tethered their horses to a nearby tree. He sat down against a boulder, and she did likewise. As she opened her mouth to question, he silenced her. "Watch and wait," he told her, pointing to the horizon. So she waited.

It turned out she did not have long to wait, for as she turned her head the first brilliant rays of sunlight burst over the horizon in a glorious display. It bathed the land in a rich gold, coating the sky with pink orange and red hues. Then, slowly, majestically, the great sun dawned upon the land, and she could hear the distant toll of the bell that signaled the start of a new day.

After appreciating the sunrise for a while more, she turned to Aldor, who was looking at her with the light of mirth in his eyes. "Well now, that was worth waking up in the middle of the night, risking injury and capture on a surprise ride to the top of a hill for, was it not?" In response, she playfully shoved him in the shoulder.

"Come now," he said as he caught her hands and held them fast. "Was it worth it, my friend?"

Sighing, she grudgingly admitted, "Yes, it was," shaking her head at him. "You are incorrigible," she remarked. He merely shrugged and smiled at her. Throwing her hands up in the air, she sighed exasperatedly, "I give up! Yes, it was very much worth it! If you want to know, it was one of the best sunrises I have ever seen," she added, leaning back against the boulder. "And I have not seen a great deal of them."

"Well, we shall have to remedy that," he replied, laughing slightly. "But who am I to judge? Come, I know for a fact that you have a free morning, let us spend it in conversation," he said.

"Very well, Aldor. What do you wish to know?" she asked him, pulling her feet in and hugging her knees.

"Ladies first, Nadia," he reminded her. She pouted and sighed grudgingly, "As you wish," then."

"Why this place, Aldor? Why bring me here?" she asked him softly. He looked away from her. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before he turned to her.

"This place…it is dear to me," he started, then he hesitated.

_Maybe it was not such a wise idea to bring her here…_

"It holds memories," he continued. "Joyful and sorrowful alike, I have come here seeking solitude when it was oft needed." There was a soft light shining in his eyes, a sadness of calling upon memories buried in the soul's vast depths. She drew closer to him and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"It was here I came to when my mother passed away," he whispered, his voice barely audible amongst the sounds of the morning. "I recall mounting my horse and blindly riding, grief clouding my eyes," he said, turning to face her. "I found this place by chance, my place of rest, where the dim shadows of the past are revealed by the blinding light of the present."

"But the shadows need not linger and enter your heart, Aldor," she said, putting her hand to his face and caressing it. "Let the light fill your heart, let it stay there, with fond memories as a cooling shade. Do not let your heart be troubled."

As she said those words, her own heart was troubled. Was she worthy enough to be shown this place which obviously held so much importance to him? Though they had become intimate friends through their letters, their friendship was not one of constant interaction, but of correspondence. They had only been recently reunited, and she was not so sure of her current relationship with him, or on what ground they were standing on. Did he consider her as a close friend? Or was it just an attempt to give her some nice memories of the trip to Rohan? She felt extremely awkward and foolish, as if she were intruding on something sacred.

"I'm sorry, Aldor, it was wrong of me to ask," she said quickly, trying to salvage what was left of their conversation.

"No," he said firmly. She watched him get up and pace nervously, while she sat patiently and waited for him to continue.

"Do you remember when I first met you?" he began, and she noticed that he had a faraway look in his eyes. "You had admonished me for wasting the parchment," he recalled, allowing a small smile to tug at his lips.

"I was recovering from the battle, from a slash wound and a fever. I embraced the pain, willingly, hoping that it would drive away my guilt. When you saw me I had not the heart to care, but I had to be strong, for my own sake," she nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

"You were not there when the Witch-King came. You did not see the destruction, the carnage, nor the death that was on that field!" she tried to calm him down, but he went on.

"I deserted my King! In his hour of darkest need I ran away, frightened by the Black Horror that sat atop the winged beast of Mordor! And afterwards, when we learnt that he had perished, I cursed myself for my treason, for my own fear." He stopped pacing. He had turned away from her yet again. She moved to comfort him, but he spoke first, in a low, mournful voice.

"In my feverish delirium, _he_ would come, mocking me," he suppressed a shudder, "taunting me for fleeing like some child. But I could never let anyone know, not even you, my dear friend," he said, slumping his shoulders in defeat. "And it has nearly been my undoing, after so many years. I needed to tell someone!" he cried out desperately.

"You now must think me as some cowardly fool," he muttered in a low voice.

"_Never,_" she whispered fiercely, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Never think that about yourself. You did your duty. You fought honorably, and your King died an honorable death!" pulling away, she continued, "The Rohirrhim saved Gondor, _Middle Earth_ from certain death under Sauron. I would have quailed under that great, fell beast of the Black Land." She smiled at him, "Think of the prevailing peace and freedom that we have now; they have not died in vain!" she countered passionately.

"If it is any comfort," she said, "Think of him now, with the great Fathers of Rohan, where he can partake of their fellowship, for he is mighty, as they are. He is at peace; you should be too," she tried again to console him.

When he refused to look at her, she sighed and said, "It is pride if you cannot forgive yourself, why do you persist in being melancholy? Your King would have forgiven you long ago, take heart in that thought!"

He was still silent. Presently, he choked out, "Come, we must be leaving. Many would wonder where it is we have gone thus," then, turning to her, he said quietly, "Thank you for your words of comfort."

"It was my honour," she said, very shyly and quietly. They were both very aware of the proximity of their bodies, and she quickly pulled away as fast as she could.

"Well," he said, standing, "We best return. Nadia, shall we?" he offered his hand to her.

"Gladly," she said, pulling herself up and dusting herself off.

* * *

After a hearty breakfast she wandered the halls, willing them to yield their secrets to her, and yet she could not grasp them. She had studied a little of the language of the Rohirrhim, but what she knew was at best rudimentary. Chancing upon a door that had the emblem of a scroll carved in gold upon it, she seized her chance and pushed it open.

It was a fair sized room, larger than most of the guest quarters, yet a little slighter than hall. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, their fine craftsmanship and breathtaking vividness made her gasp. She studied one that depicted the taming of Félarof by Eorl. She leaned in closer, wanting to inspect it further, but a voice behind her made her jump.

"That one is one of my favourite in here, but if you go along, you will find many more that are of exceptional quality." She whirled around, and saw a woman seated upon one of the chairs. But it was not just any woman, it was the Queen Lothiriel.

"Your Highness!" She gasped, sinking into a stumbling courtesy. The Queen merely waved it off, shaking her head and smiling to herself. "We are not in the presence of the court are we?" peering at Nadia's dumbstruck face.

"Come, sit," she indicated a chair beside of her. "I assume that you have found this room by chance, or have you come here before?" Nadia grasped for the adequate words to say, "Milady, I was…I was walking about Meduseld when I saw this room. Please forgive me for my intrusion. I shall take my leave now," she made for the door, after bowing again.

"Tarry a while," called the Queen, "Would you not like to peruse the library here?" she indicated with her hands to a modest-sized collection of books and tomes arranged upon numerous wooden shelves. She gasped again, wanting so badly to read them all, yet falling back, hesitating because of the presence of Rohan's Queen.

"Come, do not fear," said Lothiriel. "You are from Gondor, are you not?" she smiled softly.

"You know me all too well, milady," said Nadia, taking a nervous step forward. "May I?" she asked.

"You may," said the Queen. "In Rohan things are done with less rigidness, meaning to say that you need not be so formal around me, for we are not in court." With barely concealed excitement she went among the books, taking in the musty, old smell of parchment and ink, reveling in all the knowledge that could be gained from these tomes that lay at her fingertips.

"Rohan was never a land that put forth their history or literature to text," commented the Queen. "Everything was passed down by word of mouth, by our oral ballad, or our famous drinking songs," a wry smile tugged at her lips, "So I had this room built, and I brought in many of the books from Dol Amroth and Gondor, and the rest, we have had our scholars and our minstrels write them down, for the purpose preserving our rich history and culture." She looked up from her book, smiling.

"It was wise of you, milady," said Nadia, wanting to say something on her part. "Your people love you very much." At this her smile drooped a little, and she sighed.

"I hope so," she said, and returned to her book. Nadia cursed herself for bringing up such a sensitive topic, and tried to think of something to say, maybe she could undo the damage.

"Are there any bookbinders in Rohan, milady?" she asked timidly. The Lady Lothiriel looked up from her book, screwing up her face in thought. "No," she finally said, "There are none."

"Milady," she said again, "I hope not to be too presumptuous, but, if you would take it, I would offer my services in preserving the texts, if you wish. It would be a great honour for me to do so, for I have always wished to come to Rohan. I am the daughter of a bookbinder, and I in kind have learnt the trade," she finished.

"It would be greatly appreciated," said the Queen. "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Nadia," she said simply. "The bookbinder's daughter."

They smiled, together, and suddenly a flash of gold burst into the room like a storm. It was the Lady Eowyn.

"Lothiriel,' she cried. "You are needed, hurry!" the Queen stood up in alarm. "The initiation ceremony is about to start! We must not be late, Faramir sent me to fetch you!" she was hurried out the door, and Nadia followed, curious as to what was going on.

* * *

Aldor scanned the crowd impatiently. Decked out in all his green and gold finery, which was woefully lackluster, he stood before the King in the throne room, almost ready to begin his initiation as the King's chief Minstrel. Almost, for Nadia was still not there. Maybe she now hated him, or was disgusted and ashamed with him for his display that morning. _Aldor you fool_, he cursed himself. Why did he have to burden her with his own nightmares when they had just been reunited as friends? Maybe she wouldn't come, but he desperately hoped that she would.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw he run, a little breathlessly, to the small crowd that had gathered. A few heads turned, but she pointedly ignored them. She gave him a nod of encouragement, and his heart soared with confidence as her eyes were shining with pride.

He muttered only for the King's ears, "My King, we may begin," looking up at him sheepishly. He should not have told him that he was waiting for someone to come, but it was a special day for him, and having his friends and family around him was necessary, so he hoped that King Eomer would understand.

He felt the King clap him on the shoulder, a sign of acknowledgement, and his eyes dancing with mirth. Obviously he had seen Nadia's timely arrival. Fighting to keep a straight face, he stood up, while Aldor knelt down on one knee.

"Friends, we are gathered here today to mark Aldor Gléowine's son as the one to enter into the service of Rohan as Chief Minstrel." His rich voice rang out across the hall, and everyone stayed silent. Aldor began his solemn vow.

"I, Aldor son of Gléowine, hereby take up my duty to serve the King, in peace and in war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me."

It was obvious that he had practiced that line many times, and as Nadia looked on with pride for her friend, she felt an almost tender affection for the Minstrel.

"I accept your pledge, and I will not fail to reward that which is given. Remain true to your word. Go forth and do your duty!" cried the King. Aldor stood up slowly, turning to face the crowd, and then he cried, "Westu Eomer Hal!"

And everyone in the room cried with one voice, "Hail!"

And as Nadia looked upon him, it was as if a veil or a shroud of gloom had been lifted from him, and he seemed to flow with a new strength she had never seen. And when she looked upon his jubilant face, she had never felt prouder of him in her whole life.

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**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! **

**School will be starting ina few weeks time, and I also have another fic that I am writing. I will try to update before christmas, then school reopens, and I will have considerably less time. Please bear with me. **

** Erugenel**


	7. Services Required

**Sorry for the long delay! School is starting and i have sinfully squandered my time reading fanfiction. Ah well, nothing i can do about it. All I can tell you about this fic is that I can see the end in sight! Please hang in there and drop in a review or two!**

** DISCLAIMER: Not conceived of by me but written for the greater good.**

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Journey of Faith  
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**Chapter 7: Services Required**

The dim sunlight filtered through the small window in her room as Nadia shook herself awake. Yesterday had been hard on all the trainees, and she had gone to bed with aching and sore muscles. They felt a little better, but, valar, they still hurt! She groaned and dragged herself out of bed to where the washbasin was. As she was in the act of scrubbing her face with cold water, there came a small knock at the door.

Opening it slowly, half expecting Aldor and another of his escapades, she found it was a little servant girl, casting glances around her nervously. She took a small step back from the worn, wooden door, then, she spoke in a small trembling voice, "Miss, the Queen requests your presence in the library. And with that, she bolted before Nadia could say anything.

Closing the door silently, she retreated into the room, where her disgruntled roommate questioned her on who it was.

"It was nothing really," she said. "Go back to sleep, Lotessa," her roommate grunted something intelligible and went back to sleep while Nadia herself sat on her bed. The Queen had requested an audience with her. Had she been too forward when they had met? Did she upset the Queen in any way? Oh, how she wanted to bury her face in her pillow to hide her consternation!

After a good minute of contemplation, she rose and went to dress. Squaring her shoulders, she resolutely marched out the door. It was then that her confidence began to waver. Her hand paused on the doorknob, with the door partially open, tempting her to return to the relative comfort and safety of the room and inform the Queen that she was sick. But then that would be discourteous, and cowardly. Her nostrils inadvertently flared. She would not be a coward! She steeled herself to the task, shutting the door behind her with a snap, causing her roommate to protest, which she blatantly ignored.

With each step her sense of dread mounted, and the temptation to flee to her room was great. So she broke into a half-run and arrived, panting, at the library door. Knocking tentatively at the door, she heard the cool voice of the Queen bidding her enter.

She stepped inside, fearful of what t expect. Her trepidation was evident, to which the Queen gave a trilling laugh, not unkindly, and she said to her, "Come, do not fear. You have done no wrong," at this Nadia felt relief flood her. She advanced to where the Queen had turned to one of the books.

"You requested my presence, Milady?" she asked, slowly. The Queen turned to her, nodding, "Yes. I wished to consult you in a matter I assume you know more about than me."

Nadia was flattered, and she felt the blush creep up her cheeks. She quickly replied, "How may I be of service?"

"What do you know of the history of Rohan?" said the Queen, and her question threw Nadia off for a moment. She paused, recollecting and piecing together the information that she had read over the years, thinking of a way to present it without appearing too ostentatious.

"Well," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I am not a woman of Rohan, so what I know is painfully limited. But I will do the best I can," then she launched into the history of the Men of the North, a race which prized their horses above many things. She spoke of their leader Eorl, and how he had come to Gondor's aid when it was the time of Cirion the steward, "And Gondor will forever remain grateful for their sacrifice," where the steward granted the horsemen of the North the lands of Calenardhon, which they renamed as Rohan. She spoke of the taming of Félarof, and of Brego the builder oh the Golden hall, and of Baldor the hapless and Aldor his brother, (at this the corners of her mouth were tugged into a smile, noting the namesake). When she came to Helm hammerhand, she confessed that her knowledge was not as accurate, and the last of the line of kings was but a brief sketch.

"You are certainly well-informed, Nadia," said the Queen. "In our previous conversation, you mentioned that you were familiar with the process of bookbinding," she looked at Nadia for confirmation. Nadia nodded her assent, not sure of what to expect.

"This library," said the Queen, waving her hands at the room and smiling fondly, "It was my desire…my personal project, so to speak. The Rohirrhim primarily were a scattered race, unlike the unified forces of Minas Tirith and other realms. Therefore there was no base for much collection of culture and history, except for the passing down by word-of-mouth of oral ballads. Quite unreliable, is it not?" she said, giving Nadia an encouraging smile.

"That it why we have the minstrels of the court," _Aldor, _thought Nadia, "To remember these tales of glory, and let the future generations know of our land's proud past."

"Much of these books were part of my dowry," said the Queen. "I had them brought from Dol Amroth as a wedding gift. I can never stray far from my books," she said, and Nadia reflected how alike she and the Queen were. "Then, for the past few years, I have collected many more, to fill this small library here, in he hopes that one day everyone may be able to share in something that would mean so much to them." Nadia felt tears pricking her eyes at her words. She hurriedly wiped them away.

"What I wished for was that all the numerous lays and ballads could be recorded and preserved in text," she explained, and Nadia had a growing understanding about what the Queen was asking of her. "For this we have engaged a scribe and a minstrel for the task. The whole of Rohan, and I would be deeply grateful to you if you would aid them but a little in this undertaking."

She felt relief wash over her, and excitement flood her at the prospect of working firsthand with the history of Rohan. But then she remembered what her purpose in Rohan was, and her face fell.

"My Queen, I still have my trainee duties to attend to," she protested.

"But do you wish to help?" asked the Queen. Nadia nodded fervently. "Very well, I shall speak with the Steward. Maybe there can be something we can agree on," concluded the Queen. "You may go, forgive me for calling for you on such a short notice."

"It was my pleasure," said the humble bookbinder's daughter, and bowed herself out.

* * *

She skipped to breakfast the next day. Delirious with elation, she barely noticed her friend until he had shook her out her happy reverie.

"What are you so happy about?" said Aldor, digging into his breakfast noncommittally.

"Oh," she looked at him brightly, noticing him for the first time that day. "Good morning to you too, Aldor." She received a grunt in reply.

After a while, her cheerfulness began to disturb him. What was going on with his friend this morning? Poking her in the shoulder, he asked her, "What in Bema's name is there a cause to rejoice about? Today certainly is not very special."

"Oh, but it is!" she replied brightly. "You see," she leaned in conspiratorially, "The Steward has given me some leave from my duties." He snorted in disbelief. "And some of us have to work all day here," he muttered.

"But that is not all! I am to aid in the preserving and archiving of the ballads. The Queen had said that it was a task entrusted to a scribe and a minstrel. I wonder who they are…"

_The Queen's project? By Bema's Beard! I am that minstrel!_

"One of them you already have met," he informed her. "Really?" she turned to him excitedly, breathlessly, and he found himself looking at her longer than was simply necessary. She looked quite a sight, with her hair wild from her constant tousling, and her eyes shining. And he found himself liking what he saw. He forced his eyes away hurriedly; she had not noticed his study of her, for which she was grateful.

"Indeed," he replied, answering her question. "That would be me." He managed a twinkle in his eye, but he felt the heat creep up his neck when she looked at him with that fervent expression that was only hers.

"That is wonderful! The Queen assigned you to this task?" she asked him.

"I am the King's Chief Minstrel," he replied, chuckling a little.

They strolled out to a small little outcropping of rock beside the Golden Hall. His heart beat a little faster at the though of being alone with her, as the raw wind blasted at them from all around.

"When do I start?" she asked suddenly, and he was startled by the abruptness of the question. "Huh?" he managed to get out, shaken from his own thoughts.

"I said, when do I start? My, Aldor, you do seem to be a bit flustered this morning," she clucked her tongue and gently put the back of her hand against his forehead. He felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks at her gentle touch, and he almost leaned into it, almost taking her hand.

"Are you sure you are fine? Perhaps you should not have come out today. Do you want to go to the healers?" he shook his head mutely; trying to regain control of his speech after her touch had made him so flustered.

"I am fine," he croaked. When she still was unconvinced, he assured her, "I really am. In deference to your question, I was informed that if you would begin with us immediately, it would be greatly appreciated," his smooth voice a contrast to his churning insides. "Shall we?" he said graciously, offering his elbow to her in a parody of the lords and ladies of the court.

She giggled and took it, shaking her head. "We shall, Aldor."

He fidgeted nervously at their arms touching. If it were to be like this for the next two weeks, he did not think he would be able to survive.

But as he watched her laugh at something he had said, something stirred in him, and he felt that may the next two weeks would not be that bad after all.

* * *

"Aldor, do you think this is correct," she asked him from where she was across the table.

"Let me see it," he glanced at the piece of parchment that she handed him, "_Heo naefre wacode daegred, To bisig mid daegeweorcum…" _he read out the part where she had copied the lay dutifully down upon the parchment, "Oh, wait, there's a small error here, let me correct it…" he busily took his quill and started scribbling furiously upon the script.

Nadia stole a moment to observe her industrious friend. Over the past few days of working together with him, his perfectionist nature was blatantly obvious and she always had a good laugh at his expense. He never gave up on his task until it was nothing short of perfect. And she admired him for that.

She had never been particularly lazy in her own endeavors, yet she had to admire his perseverance in pursuing his goal to the point of blind stupidity. She compared him with herself. He was…conscientious, hardworking, kind and patient. His qualities shone from underneath his amiable exterior. On the other hand, she tended to give up easily on occasion, and was short-tempered when harassed. How she wished she could keep her cool like he did!

The reason her brain offered to her for making the comparison of her and her Rohan friend was that it was only natural for _colleagues_ to feel the same amount of inequality as she was feeling now. Was she insecure? _No!_ Came the firm reply. She was adamant with herself about a few things, and one of them was being completely honest with herself. But she felt her resolution waver. Maybe an evil doppelganger had come and killed off the real Nadia in her sleep, replacing it with this faulty, self-conscious being.

Then she snorted at the absurdity of her imagination. Really, what _was_ she thinking? Aldor looked up at her with those endearing eyes of his, his brow furrowed in bemusement at her sudden noise. She started giggling after that. She supposed that it was the influence of the loose-tongued and scatter-brained servant-girls whose gossip never missed her ears. How one of them had declared she could swoon to the ground in an undignified heap if the Chief Minstrel ever looked her way with those eyes of his. _He certainly is looking at _me_ now with those eyes of his. Am I swooning? Obviously not._

At this she could not help but break out into fits of laughter. The expression of bewilderment upon his face was worth its weight in gold. She laughed louder, so that now her face was in her arms and tears were leaking from her eyes and Aldor had knocked over his chair in alarm at what had overcome her to cause such a ruckus.

"Nadia! Nadia! What is the matter?" he shouted frantically, causing her to laugh ever more hysterically. Finally, in the dusty silence of the library, they subsided, and she finally faced him, red-faced, while he stood across her, a look of complete consternation upon his countenance.

"What was that?" he asked her, none too subtly.

"That, for your information, was laughter." Seeing his indignant look, she hastened to explain, trying, and failing to suppress her amused smile, "Oh, I was not making a joke on your expense," she said, touching his hand to convey her concern. "I was laughing at a rather tickling scenario that was playing out in my head from an experience not long ago." When he pressed her for more details, she merely smiled and said that he really did not want to know. It irked him a little, that she had the advantage in this situation, but the seed of irritation was quickly banished by the burning sensation of her touch upon his skin where she had taken his hand. It was born more out of shyness and awkwardness than of some unnatural, flagrant reaction, but he dared not raise his eyes to meet hers. A giggle and a sigh escaped her lips, and for once he wondered who it was for.

They worked in amiable silence for a little while longer, but soon after she saw him out of the corner of her eye look up from his work, grinning roguishly at her. She tried in vain to ignore him, but soon she gave in and her snickers could be heard. Soon both of them looked at each other and laughed hard.

"Alright, you have me. What is it this time? Retribution for the disruption of your duties? Compensation for the wasting of your valuable time by my senseless humor? " she challenged.

"Hardly," he scoffed, looking at her with the imitation of a lofty adult speaking to a bellicose child. "I was only wondering, but since you have so ungraciously declined in not so many words my generous offer of an afternoon ride ending with lunch I shall not ask," he finished with a haughty toss of his head. The twinkle in his eye, however, betrayed his playful intentions.

She grinned. It took two to spar, and their verbal repartee had only just begun.

* * *

A while later they were both mounted upon their steeds and riding hard upon the plain. Pure bliss, mixed with exhilaration and a small amount of trepidation was addictive. He could hear Nadia crying out joyously, with her long, dark hair flowing in the wind.

_What would it be like to run my fingers through her long hair…_

He pinched himself hard to repel his subconscious wonderings. They were only out on a ride; it must have befuddled him somehow. He breathed in the heady scent of wildflowers, and they dismounted by a babbling brook, to water their horses and rest.

"Kind sir, would you care to refresh my memory on how exactly you managed to steal me away from my books when I was clearly gaining the upper hand?" she said impishly.

"Well, I recall that I was losing most unfairly," he replied wit a rakish grin. "Therefore, to aid my conquest, I employed the lure of a honey cake or two, taken from the kitchens, and dear lady, you most readily complied," he swept his arm out and bowed, grinning cheekily.

"You have not won the battle yet! I demand the honey cakes in exchange for your victory; only then will be satisfied," she stuck her hand out with the look of a petulant child upon her face, and he laughingly complied, taking out a small bundle wrapped in linen from his satchel.

"As my Lady wishes, so it will be done," he made to lay out his cloak upon the ground, but she intervened, "I can sit on the grass, Aldor."

"You flatter yourself too much, Nadia. The cloak is for me to sit down on, though you may join me if you wish, but I suppose you would rather sit on the grass since you said so yourself," he looked up at her from where she stood, arms akimbo, and he flashed her a most winning smile, patting the seat beside him to aggravate her further. She glared at him further.

Finally she had to concede. Lowering herself gently onto the cloak, she handed him the honey cakes and he began pulling out more things from his satchel.

"Some bread, a little cold fowl from last night's dinner, ale and…honey cakes!" he finished with a self-satisfied grin. She hit him on the arm playfully, "We still have to return for lunch!" she hissed at him.

"If you have not noticed, Nadia, this _is_ lunch, and I will finish it all if you do not take some, and later you will have to sneak down to the kitchen and steal yourself some food, earning the wrath of the cook if you failed to avoid capture," she grumbled and muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'men and their appetites'/

"Actually, I would get _you_ to steal food for me," she winked at him deviously, and he felt his blood boil at her gaze. Gulping, he tried to control himself.

She batted her eyes at him, "You would do anything for your friend, would you not?" she asked sweetly. His mouth hung open, his breath came in short gasps, and a blush crept over his skin at the most alarming rate. Her words were having the most undesirable effect on him.

_How could she possibly know…_

"T-that is," he gulped again, "I-I will consider it," he quickly took some bread and started chewing furiously, trying to hide his tell-tale blush.

"Oh, thank you! My savior! My hero!" she leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. "I daresay, how gallant of you to take the blame for me, I will count on you forever after," she playfully fanned herself with her hand in an imitation of the Noble Ladies of the court.

To say the closeness of their bodies was unnerving to Aldor was an understatement. He felt the heat rush through his body at and alarming rate, and a dizzy, swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach. Her long, black was fanned out onto his lap, and it took all of his self-control to touch it.

"Tell me more of Gondor," he asked hr, in a desperate bid to draw attention away from himself.

"Do you not know so much about it already though our letters?" she turned to face him. It was then that the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

"But I rather hear you speak!" at this he realized what he had said, and quickly added, "I mean, what I know of is only from your letter, and the written words sometimes are dryer than the spoken. I was hoping, perhaps, that you would tell me about Gondor the way you see it, not as history dictates," _quick save there, Aldor_, he told himself.

For a moment she looked unsure, then she spoke in a low voice, "But only if you tell me of Rohan too."

"Agreed," he said, and made himself comfortable for a long tale, the food forgotten.

"I love to watch the sunrise," she began, looking wistfully towards the mountains, "Every morning I would wake up early and clean the house a little. Then I would wait until the first rays of light turn the sky from pitch to indigo. The darkness slowly dissolves, and the sky lightens, and turns from blue, to a, orange pink, then a gold. Then, with all the benevolence of a rotund wizard, the sun rises into the sky to take his place. By now, the sounds of Minas Tirith are all around me; the crashing of pots, the hurried footsteps, the sound of housewives up and about; it is morning in the Tower of the Sun."

She continued to speak of the city of stone, the way her eyes lit up in eagerness, her absent-minded twirling of her hair on her finger, just watching speak of the land that she loved so much brought a pang of tenderness to his heart.

"And when the sun sets, the sunset as red as blood spills across the white stone, and the stone seems to drink it up, relishing the feel of the light, mourning the loss of the sun, waiting, in anticipation, for the moonlit night, and the glittering stars. And in the moonlight, the stone would glow, and lovers would walk the gardens, and poets would draw their inspiration." She glanced at him shyly, noting the glazed look in his eyes, pushed him playfully and said, "Stop making fun of me!"

"I was not!" he protested. "I was just…distracted," he finished lamely. She shook her head, laughing a little at his chagrin.

"Well, whether or not you were making fun of me, it is your turn now," she pointed out.

"So it is. Very well then, I shall tell you my story."

And with the practiced ease of a minstrel, he began.


	8. Struggle

**Note: School has just started, so my updates will get be more spaced out. But fear not, my readers, the end is in sight! For those fans of Peter Pevensie and Jack Driscoll fics, I may write one or two. **

**DISCLAIMER: Not conceived of by me but written for the greater good.

* * *

**

**Journey of Faith**

**Chapter 8: Struggle**

"I was born a little before sunrise, in that house yonder," he raised his hand and pointed at one of the many houses, each of them indistinguishable from the other due to the likeness of their appearance.

"Which one?" she asked, straining her neck towards Edoras, peering intently among the mass of wood-coloured dwellings that dotted the great hill.

"That one," he pointed again, and she turned to him, "Do you honestly think I am able to see which house you were born in from _here_?"

"Ah," he said to her, "Now then do you understand the predicament of the Rohirrhim when we see the houses in your city, each one a blindingly white after another that we can never get to our desired destinations as each stone building looks the same? The cruel tricks this world plays on us, Nadia," he winked at her.

"Oh, do continue with the story," she said with a scowl. "We have not all the time in the world."

"So," he said, "My father whisked me from my mother for awhile, since she was asleep and would not object, and he brought me out on the battlements to watch the sunrise. And he would just speak to me, telling me how happy he was to have me here, and together we watched the sun come up. And I know all this for he told me," catching her bemused look.

"It seems that we have common interests," he continued. "You said that you would wake before dawn and watch the sunrise. I do so too," he gazed distantly across the plains, "Ever since that morn when I first witnessed the rising sun, I have never let it go. I cherished it in my heart, and every morning not spent in watching the sunrise was a morning wasted." He tore off some bread to chew.

Swallowing, he continued, "The sun in held in high regard to us in Rohan. If you would but walk around, you would see the signs for our reverence for it. It sheds light upon the earth, halting all the things of darkness, bringing hope to those without it. The sun gives life, it starts another day, and it shows us that we are still alive to see another morning, another day to love and to live."

"Minas Tirith was once known as Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun," she offered.

"Indeed," he remarked, "For when the sun strikes the city, it is as if it glowed as a sun of its own." He looked pensive for a moment, then continued, "We had neither stone for metal in abundance, therefore our houses and the Golden Hall was built with wood. But we have adorned them with the proud emblems of our race." He waved his hand in the direction of Edoras, "We respect the horse as a symbol of strength, of grace and freedom. They are our dear and trusted friends, following us into battle and even to death. You cannot be a Rohirrhim without a horse," he said with a wry grin.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I remember my first horse, or pony, whatever you would call it. Actually, it was just a foal a year from its mother's womb. I was no more than a foal myself, and yet my eagerness to ride and his spiritedness, we made an excellent pair. But that is a story for another time."

"When my mother died, I remember saddling my horse in a blind delirium, or in some trancelike state of mind. I had ridden out to the hill where I had brought you to earlier, and I watched the sunset alone, the feeling of death creeping up my feet and the dread realization that the one woman whom I loved dearest in the world _at that time_ had left me." He let out an almost inaudible sniff.

Nadia wondered if sharing a part of him so intimate and sensitive meant that they were more that just platonic friends then. He had shared a piece of his soul with her, had he not? But then what about her, would he expect of her the same too? Or did he mean something by pouring out his deepest, darkest fears? At a loss, she put a comradely hand upon his shoulder.

_I can only comfort him from a distance…

* * *

_

Much, much later, she sat upon her bed, brushing her hair diligently. As she combed with one sweeping rhythm, her mind had wandered back to Aldor.

Had she been too forward in assuming that Aldor was in need of comfort? She had known many men, and most of them had persisted in a foolish bravado, insisting that they did not need a helping hand to keep their male ego intact. Had he been offended in any way?

"He can't have," she murmured to no one in particular. He was not like that, he was humble and kind and warm, and friendly, and teasing and she liked that about him. But she was also aware of the fact that he was a man, and their time together could be interpreted by the others as a courtship.

Why was she so frightened of being subject to idle kitchen-maid gossip? Or was she more alarmed at what they were chattering _about_? Her and Aldor? It seemed so unlikely! They were friends, only that. And even if she were pining away for him and wearing her heart on her sleeve she doubted that he would notice her. Surely he would choose a bride from among his own people? He would not feel…_that way_ towards her, the simple daughter of a bookbinder.

But even as she was in the midst of convincing herself of there being nothing between them, she felt almost a pang in her heart to be arriving at that conclusion. Did it pain her to say so? Was she actually hoping that Aldor would like her, because she liked him?

"Don't be silly," she told herself, and brushed her hair even harder, as if to shake her out of a confusing reverie. As if to occupy her mind with something else, she found herself thinking about what she wanted in a man.

She had noticed the subtle hints that her mother had dropped, and some none-too-subtle ones from her father as well. They had pressed her, indirectly, with the matter that she was growing old and-she dreaded to say it- it was time for her to settle down and find a husband. She had laughed them off and ignored them, she was barely twenty-one summers old, and she still had plenty of time. But when they had taken a more direct approach, inviting potential suitors and the same old raven haired youths to dinner in a bid to pair her with them, she had to put her foot down. The practice of having one's parents arranging a match was rarely practiced in Minas Tirith at that time, but she feared that sooner or later, they would be driven to desperation and commit the atrocious(or so she thought) act. She had therefore applied to become a teacher, hoping for some respite from her parent's unwanted ministrations.

She could understand what they wanted. It was nothing more but for their only daughter to have a good life and be cared for well. She was touched by their concern, yet no matter how many times she had told them that she was fine, they stubbornly persevered in bringing in more and more men into her social existence. Gone were the days when a father defended his daughter's honor jealously from any young men wishing to court or woo her. She had consequently become good friends with many of her parent's failed attempts for her to be attached, and they all had felt sympathy for her at her plight. They had all offered some meager consolation as their masculinity would allow, but they had remained but her laughing bunch of goons she called friends. None of them expressed any interest in her, and she in turn never saw them as men, but as immature stable boys that fooled around when no one was watching. She never dared to get close to any one of them, for fear that her heart would be let down again like a previous encounter with one such Gondorian. He had proved to be too childish, and she had been too naïve, and in the end it all ended in tears on his side and a good deal of cursing at him on hers.

But in Aldor she found a loyal and true friend, a far cry from her other companions. He had all that she wanted in a man: maturity, understanding, warmth, kindness, courage, justice and fairness. But was it just because of his admirable qualities that she was feeling for him in such and such a way? Did she even have any feelings for him in her? What if she did? She could not bear to think so, for they were of different lands. She would not stay here forever. She had to return, eventually, to Gondor, and would they leave with things left unsaid? She cringed at the thought.

She remembered how she had had an infatuation with a man who was handsome, as well as juvenile, petulant, selfish, idle and brainless. If she had had an infatuation with him, then what were her feelings for the flaxen-haired minstrel?

She heaved a sigh of irritation, mixed with frustration, weariness, and, as she slipped off to sleep, a trace of longing.

* * *

As sunlight filtered into the room it saw Nadia pacing and wringing her hands, her mind deep in rumination. Every now and then, she would open her door a crack to peep outside, and then she would shut it quickly, but softly, so as not to wake her slumbering roommate.

Finally, she looked out one more time, seeing that the coast was clear, slipped out her room quickly and made a beeline for the library to start the day's work. She was so intent on avoiding any others that she bumped into the very person she did not wish to meet: Aldor.

A blush spread across her face like wildfire, as a heat prickled the back of her neck and spread through her belly. She promptly withdrew and hugged her books to her chest, averting her eyes to the stone floor. She had expected him to tease her about it, but to her great surprise, he looked away too, clearing his throat and fidgeting awkwardly, clearly embarrassed at their touch. He too had been trying to put off meeting her until the very last.

He mumbled something inaudible to her, and she in turn muttered a response. Holding open the door to the library, he gestured for her to enter first. He then entered, careful not to shut the door behind him.

The next few hours passed excruciatingly slowly for the both of them. For Nadia, it was because she was caught between embarrassment and general disorder of her mind at the mere fact that Aldor was in the same room as her. For him, he was a nervous wreck and therefore was in no state to complete any work. Neither of them looked at each other, and avoided any physical contact like the plague. So great was their consternation that they did not notice the hushed voices of the Conspirators outside the room.

"There definitely has to be some attraction!" whispered the Lady Eowyn fiercely. "Did you see them this morning? How they had reacted to the other's touch? There must be something else we can do to aid them!"

"Slowly, Eowyn," hissed the Queen Lothiriel. "I have already done what I can! Did I not invent the excuse for them to be together? You must let nature take its course!"

"But I fear the course that nature is taking is too slow! She is leaving in two weeks! Things must be quickened!"

"Softly! They might hear us. And I think I hear the minstrel speak," at this both ladies rushed to the door to eavesdrop, confident that no one would disturb them as they had directed all servants away from that corridor.

* * *

He could take no more of it. The air was thick with tension it was almost tangible, and he had to break it somehow. The silence would drive him mad. Throwing caution to the wind, he boldly reached out and covered his hand with hers.

She flinched, but she did not pull away. He nearly sighed in relief.

"Nadia," he said her name.

"Aldor," she replied, not looking up. it was either that she was too engrossed in her work to care, but a glance at her parchment showed that she was not writing, but instead wringing her hands in her lap.

"Nadia, look at me," he asked her. The feel of his warm hand on her cold skin was so comfortable and distracting, a gentle, reassuring heat that spread from her hand. She had to restrain herself from taking his hand with her other hand to warm herself. She could never understand how men's hands were always so warm.

She slowly raised her head, finally looking at him in the eye. His hand was still on hers, and it was still giving that same distracting warmth.

"What is wrong?" he asked her gently, and she was so touched by his concern and tenderness she wanted to cry and to laugh and to tell him that nothing was the matter, that everything was fine, and that now whenever he was around, she was unspeakably unnerved.

"You are restless and silent," he sounded concerned, but by now her irritation was pushing through her distress, and she was annoyed by his observations. "Is something the matter?" he tried to coerce an answer out of her again.

"You were unnaturally silent and well-behaved too, Aldor," she hadn't meant to sound sarcastic, but she had no control over her tongue, and he scathing tone made her cringe.

"Touché," he said, smiling a little. She thought that he would leave her alone, but the expectant look on his face clearly stated that he was not done with her yet.

"I am fine," she lied, albeit a little brusquely, trying to convince him to leave her alone. But he did not, and now his finger was slowly drawing circles in the back of her hand, his touch so feather-light for a warrior that the tenderness he was showing her would drive her insane. She was torn, savoring his touch yet dying of nervousness. She quickly moved her hand away from his grasp and stood, albeit, a little unsteadily, her mind a jumble of unresolved thoughts that she had hastily pushed aside. She moved away from the table and went to the bookshelves, browsing the tomes, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and him.

"I once remember a time when I was infatuated with a maiden of the Rohirrhim," she heard his voice from the other end of the room. "T'was the time when I had just entered adolescence, and I began to see the flaxen-haired wenches of our race in a very different light," it was obvious he was trying to lighten the situation, and she was caught, her hand frozen in the motion of reaching for a book upon a high shelf. "Of course, my body was rapidly growing to become that of a man's, but my mind was still that of a boy's, and therefore woefully ignorant of such matters." Her face was growing steadily redder as she tried her hardest not to laugh.

"I would observe her, from afar, helping in the kitchens in Edoras. She was…well-endowed, so to speak, in many aspects and she was the subject of admiration and many of our juvenile fantasies, which is normal in boys of such an age. Which, as I now reflect, was what led me to experience the most mortifying moment in my whole life," he said with relish, and she let out a much undignified snort.

"And pray tell," He asked politely, but she heard the humor in his voice, "My dear Lady, what is it that is so funny?" she quickly grabbed a great tome and hid her face behind it.

"You may continue," she assumed a queenly tone with a haughty toss of her head, but her lips were curved in a smile.

"I never needed your permission to do so," he returned in a lordly baritone, a stupid grin on his face.

"Well then, on to the most Mortifying Experience Of My Whole Life. My Lady, I bind you to absolute secrecy. Everything said in this council is to be strictly classified, and may you keep it ever in your mind and never divulge it to anyone outside of this room and other than this Royal person whom you have engaged in discreet discourse with this day. Do you swear on pain of torture of being tickled mercilessly and death?"

By now she was too red to speak lest she let out the laugh welling up inside of her. He continued anyway.

"I was of the mind to win her over with fair speech and sweet talk. At that point I did not know, but I found out later that she was an extremely scatter-brained and dim-witted girl, and doubtless would not understand the most articulate and eloquent of poetry uttered by the wisest of sages, and thus my extremely ill-prepared and terrible sounding verses would make even less sense. But after I had discovered she was but a beauty with no amount of brains, my interest in her lessened and cooled considerably."

"But, I was unfortunate enough to know this fact after I had made my attempt, if one would even call it an attempt. For I knew, by careful observation, that everyday an hour after noon when the sun was hottest in the sky she would come to the stables and tend to her father's horse. So I had planted myself among the horses company for the better part of the day, waiting for her to arrive so that I could do my recitation."

"So here I was, standing among the dark musty smell of horse and acting like an idiot, until the worst idea so far came into my head. I had apparently come to the conclusion that I had needed some practice, and therefore went up to my worthy steed, and proceeded to declare my undying devotion for it till the ends of the earth. I had even planted a kiss on its unwilling nose, when, horror of horrors, I heard a snicker behind me, and turning around, found, to my great consternation, my best friend and her, standing hand in hand, in fits of silent laughter." At this Nadia could stand it no more, and burst forth into peals of raucous laughter. Soon he had joined in too, and as their chuckles subsided, he said, "I was teased mercilessly. I shut myself inside the house, nearly dying of mortal embarrassment and heartbreak. And, as the gossip cart goes round, the very next day the whole of that worthy hill knew of my botched attempt to chat up a lady. So much for adolescent romance," he said with a melodramatic sigh. She burst forth into a fit of giggles.

"And what happened after?" she asked him, unable to keep the grin off her face.

"I avoided her for the rest of my life, and I never spoke to my best friend afterwards for a long time." He said with a rueful grin.

"May you have better fortune in your future endeavors," she said solemnly, and then she looked at him again and laughed uncontrollably.

And outside that room, two devious females were besides themselves with excitement, silently congratulating each other on favorable progress and planning their next move.


End file.
